


Kai's Backstory: Human Monk

by creativesunshine



Series: DND Backstories [1]
Category: Dungeons & Dragons (Roleplaying Game)
Genre: DnD Backstory, OC, dnd
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-16
Updated: 2019-09-16
Packaged: 2020-10-19 16:20:15
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,340
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20660123
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/creativesunshine/pseuds/creativesunshine
Summary: Backstory for my dnd character Kai, a human Monk.





	Kai's Backstory: Human Monk

**Kai**

Original Name: Chrysanthemum Sadie Lysander

Born in the month of Heltis Day 22 in the year 582

Age: 18

Height: 5’3”-4”ish

Hair: Thick, curly/textured, brown

Eyes: golden brown

Skin:Tanned/olive

**Prior to the Monastery**

The night of my parents murder is not the easiest to remember. I was barely 5 years old at the time. Unfortunately I have acquired very little information about why my parents were murdered, or about the assassin who did it. I know that he (statistically, the assassin was male, although I never saw their face) broke in on the south side of the manor, because it was very near the nursery where I slept. I woke to suspicious noises in the night— glass breaking, thudding, the creaking of someone moving through an old and undisturbed house. Frightened, I called out to the nurse who was always stationed with me through the night, but received no answer. I ran into the darkened hall, and paused, contemplating the dash to my parent’s room. I heard no footsteps but instead a strange scuttling noise. I looked up and saw a figure balanced on the rafters, observing. In my older years, I am sure it was a man, but the imagination of my childhood was convinced it was a monster. I turned and ran to my parents bedroom, and with a whimper threw myself onto the bed. My father stirred but did not wake. Between my panicked breaths I heard that scuttling noise again. To terrified to scream, I dove under the bed and buried my face in the carpet. Faintly, I heard the _swip! thud swip! thud _of arrows. It wasn’t until I was much older that I realized I must’ve led the killer to my parent’s room that night. There was commotion downstairs— the servants realized someone broke in. More scuttling, and the assassin was gone. It wasn’t until I was sure he had left did I start sobbing. Jacob, my father’s valet pulled me out from under the bed, and whispered “Don’t look Miss Chrissy- don’t look”. As any five-year-old would, I opened my streaming eyes. I took one look at the eyes-bulging, tongue-lolling, blood-covered form of my mother, nearly decapitated by the force of the large arrow piercing her throat— and promptly fainted.

The next few (hours, days, weeks?) were a blur for me. I vaguely remember traveling over an icy moor and overhearing that shortly after the deaths of the Lysanders the manor was burned to the ground. Hushed whispers made it clear that people were to be told that I also perished in the fire.

The arrival at the monastery was uneventful for me. I said goodbye to the servants I was traveling with and was left in the care of Mara, the head monk of the monastery. The initiation was brief— my old clothes were cast aside, I was bathed, given an outfit, and my hair was cut off— to be grown out in the time I lived there. The idea is that it symbolizes infancy and humility; you are being born anew as a new person, entirely leaving your old life behind. As Mara drew symbols with red dye on my forehead and creeks, she said “You have been rescued by Solnir, and for that you owe him your life. You are born again with the sole purpose of serving Him. Your name is Kai. Answer me Kai!” “Yes ma’am.” I murmured.

**The Monastery**

Self-pity was not tolerated at the monastery. Most of these girls had escaped from brothels or slavery, no one was going to give sympathy to a blue-blood who’s parents had been murdered. Routine at the monastery was miserable, and endless cycle of training and studying and religious rituals. Wynn made things more bearable. A note on Wynn— I have never met a more frustrating and impossible human being in my life. We clashed like fire and water. Wynn was a year or two older than I was; with sleek black hair, porcelain skin, and narrow dark eyes that always looked proud and disdainful. She was beautiful, she couldn’t help it. She would tell crazy stories about her family, who were pirates; and that she had been stolen away by a ship captain to marry a prince of a far-off land and become his bride, but she escaped and has been hiding out here ever since. Everyone knew she was lying.

She didn’t hate the monastery like I did— I think she reveled in being really good at everything there. She didn’t have a problem being forced to spar with girls much younger and smaller than her (I fought her on several occasions over her beating up smaller children). She was even more devout than I was, she liked the teachings that only the strong survived and compassion was equated with weakness. Despite our differences, we became friends. She was the only one there crazy enough to stir up trouble with me. (Of course, _she_ never got caught.) But we always looked out for and fiercely defended one another. Life at the monastery was so disciplined, so full of routine, the same thing day in and day out, you couldn’t help but be drawn to an unpredictable force of nature like Wynn.

The day I left the monastery, I asked her if she would come with me. It was close to dusk, and I had everything packed. When I asked her, she looked at me with those mocking, disdainful eyes, and without missing a beat said “go _with_you? Are you kidding?” before turning around and heading back inside.

I was crushed. We had stuck by each other for twelve years, and I had come to think of her as family. And I didn’t even get so much as a goodbye. Betrayal like that is hard to let go of.

**After the Monastery/ Meeting Jebediah the Cleric of Solnir**

I ran. Those weeks were full of sleeping in barns, stealing bits of food, and catching rides with strangers who wouldn’t ask questions. Eventually I made it close to the coast, and contemplated how I could stow-away on a ship. I was sitting in a dingy pub, too hungry to doze off when—

“I am JEBEDIAH, cleric of Solnir!” boomed across the room. The god’s name caught my attention and I looked round to see a large half-orc sitting at the bar. More importantly, a purse that jangled with gold hung from his belt. Normally I hated stealing, but from a cleric of Solnir— I justified it, telling myself he probably deserved to be stolen from. Besides, I hadn’t eaten in a few days, and I was desperate. Needless to stay, I was not as successful as I hoped and he caught me trying to pickpocket him. But instead of getting angry or throwing me out, he asked me about my holy symbol I wore around my wrist. I answered his questions as stiffly and reluctantly as possible. He bought me food though, and when I told him I wanted to get across the sea and into another country, he asked if I’d consider accompanying him to a job he and his friends were taking on— acting as mercenaries and transporting a dangerous criminal from on city to another. He told me that the job had decent pay, and from there I could continue to wherever I wanted to go. Jeb told me to sleep on it, and that he’d be leaving in the morning. He paid for a room for me at the tavern.

I was extremely suspicious of his kindness towards me, and didn’t understand the reasoning behind him taking a liking to me. Was it just because I wore the same holy symbol as he did?However, I figured it was my best shot to earn some money and get across the border. So I decided to join Jebediah, cleric of Solnir, in crossing the ocean and meeting up with his friends for the simple task of transporting- someone named Gathocenial?


End file.
